


Unexpected

by blackbird



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-27
Updated: 2006-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbird/pseuds/blackbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He shouldn't be watching this.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

He shouldn't be watching this.

It was almost three in the morning and he could have crashed on Jack's couch after the gig in Brooklyn, but it was hot, he was fucking exhausted, and wanted to sleep in his own bed. So he got on the train, dragged his ass up the four flights of stairs and dropped his guitar case inside the door before stripping off his sweat soaked shirt, toeing off his boots and socks, and tossing them in the direction of his room. Not thinking anything about the faint light coming from Mark's room, he went to the sink and turned on the tap, waiting until it ran cold before filling a glass and gulping the water.

Then he hears it.

Little gasps and moans. Or something. Coming from Mark's room.

He grinned. It was about time Mark got some. He'd broken up with Sarah, Sally, whatever her name was, months ago. Maybe it was that hot girl they met at the Life the other night, Maureen.

Carefully, he went toward the open door. He really just meant to pull it all the way shut, so if Collins or Benny came home, they didn't interrupt them. But a glance inside showed no Maureen. Just Mark, stretched out on his faded green sheets, alone.

And jerking off.

The tiny lamp didn't throw out much light, but from where he was standing, Roger could see the thin sheen of sweat across Mark's chest. One hand was clutching the sheet and the other...

The other hand was on his cock, sliding up and down slowly, his wrist twisting slightly on each down stroke. He's biting his lower lip, then licking it, something he does all the time, when he's thinking or writing or trying not to laugh. Heat pools in Roger's stomach and he knows that he'll never see that little gesture the same way again.

God, he **really** shouldn't be watching this.

But when his hand pushes the door open a little further, he can't stop himself.

A flush is working itself down Mark's body and his hand is moving faster, up and down, up and down, and his head is thrown back, neck straining, and Roger wants to shove the door open and lick the sweat from the hollow in his throat. His other hand is moving now, going between his legs to cup his balls and he moans, stuttered and breathy. He's fucking gorgeous this way, laid out like some erotic sacrifice. Roger almost wishes he had Mark's camera, but he's fairly fucking certain this is a sight he won't need on film to recall with perfect clarity.

Roger's hand is clutching the doorframe and he's shifting his weight to try and relieve some of the tightness in his jeans.

It's become almost bearable when his foot hits the creaky floorboard.

And Mark's eyes fly open.

Oh God, he's been caught watching his best friend jerk off. This is bad. Not as bad as walking in on your parents, but still pretty awful. He starts to say something, anything to justify just what he was doing lurking in Mark's door when Mark does something completely unexpected.

He grins.

A lazy, wicked smile that sends a shiver down Roger's spine and a surge of blood to his cock.

Mark's hand stills, gripped around the base of his cock and he leans up on one elbow.

"Well," he says hoarsely, "are you coming or going?"

He's through the door and on the bed before he can think much about it. Their mouths crash together hard, teeth clicking and one of Mark's hands move to curl in his hair, the other fumbling at the button fly on his jeans. Roger shudders a little at the brush of Mark's fingertips and finally his pants are loose enough for him to shove down and kick off.

Mark breaks their kiss a little, sucking and nipping at Roger's lower lip as they lay back, all sweat-slicked skin and heat and when their cocks brush, Mark throws his head back again and Roger's tongue follows the line of his throat, up his jaw, before biting lightly on his earlobe. That makes Mark thrust up against him hard, and God, Roger's closer than he thought he was. They find a rhythm, a sweet slip and slide broken up with moans and kisses and Mark whispering filthy things into his ear. Roger's hand slides between them, finding Mark's cock and jerking it roughly, up and down and trying to remember how he was doing to himself before.

"Faster," Mark moans darkly and he can't help but blindly obey. In a few strokes, Mark stiffens and trembles, his come hot and sticky over Roger's fingers. The added slickness between them is too much for Roger and under him, Mark is still shaking a little from the aftershocks and when Roger comes, it's hard enough to make him see spots behind his eyes.

When he's recovered a little, he kisses Mark again, gentler this time and rolls onto his back. Mark leans over and rummages on the floor before coming up with a t-shirt that he uses to wipe off his stomach and hands it to him, who does the same before tossing it back into the pile of dirty clothes. He thinks he should say something, but that seems too difficult to manage right now, when he's more relaxed than he has been in ages. He feels Mark tentatively grab his hand.

They are both still staring at the ceiling when Mark says, "So..."

"Yeah."

"That was...unexpected."

Roger turns his head on the pillow to look at him.

"But good. Unexpected in a good way."

"Yeah," Mark answers, kissing him again.

When Roger starts to fall asleep, he doesn't let go of Mark's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [Challenge #70](http://community.livejournal.com/speed_rent/237886.html) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/speed_rent/profile)[**speed_rent**](http://community.livejournal.com/speed_rent/).


End file.
